I Just Thought You Should Know
by KiwiBeez
Summary: Rory takes a leaf out of Lorelai's book. A story told with notes written while on the road. About everything, nothing, and one thing in particular: finding what makes you happy.
1. Chapter 1

This has been sitting on my hard drive for a bit now, and I just wanted to put a little prologue up and see what sort of response it gets. If you all like it, then I will flesh out the remainder and post it. If you think it sucks, then I'll just delete it and call it a misguided adventure. But, the only way I'll know is if you review... so you know what to do!

As per usual, I own nothing.

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**I Just Thought You Should Know**

**Chapter 1 **

"_It's a hatbox filled with these. These are notes written on whatever I had on hand at the time. Any time I had a topic I wanted to share with you or a random thought during that crappy time apart of ours, I jotted it down and threw it in the hatbox so I wouldn't forget."_(Lorelai, 6.10)

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There were a few differences, of course. For starters, a hatbox was a little awkward to cart on the campaign trail, so she had resorted to a large envelope. And unlike her mother, the organization freak within her wouldn't allow the notes to be thrown in without reference to dates or times. She had ordered them – so that those at the top of the pile represented the first moments of her journey without him.

Sometimes she wrote because she wanted to tell him something. She missed having someone to come home to or call every day about the goings on of her life (other than her Mother – but that was different). Sometimes she wrote because there were things she needed to say. Things that were left unsaid and unresolved. And sometimes she wrote because if she didn't… well she wasn't sure if she would make it through the day without fleeing back to Connecticut.

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_I just thought you should know – _

_ Hugo gave me a job! I'm following the Obama camp through the primaries. We hit California in December. LA, though. I don't know if that fills me with excitement or dread._

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So it began. Her notes to him. That little point of contact, written to the man who had meant so much to her, for so long. She wondered if he would ever see them. She kept kindled in her heart a hope that he would. That they would find a way back together. Because the joy of being on the road, doing what she had always wanted – it wasn't as fulfilling as she had thought it would be. And she couldn't help thinking it was because she wasn't sharing it with him.


	2. Chapter 2: I can't

Thanks everyone who reviewed and encouraged me to go with this story. So here is how it will go. The chapters are short – but it is necessary for the way I want the story to be told. Each chapter will open and close with notes that Rory writes day to day. However, the chapter itself will be centred around one critical note. The critical note will be supported by the story of why it came to be written. The notes won't necessarily be from the same day, and will not always be revealed in chronological order.

Does that make sense? Does it appeal? Is this too complex? Review and tell me if I've lost the plot or not.

You know the drill about ownership.

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**I Just Thought You Should Know**

**Chapter 2**

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_The latest news from Lorelai –_

_Cletus has a split hoof._

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_It's my sister's birthday today. Georgia. I talked to her on the phone this morning – she sounded so mature. I can't believe how quickly she has grown up! _

_Did you ever meet her?_

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_I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't …_

It seemed as though the bus whispered it with the constant turning of its wheels – _I can't I can't I can't I can't… _

All through Iowa and into the next state the liturgy followed her. It visited her consciousness in every little town along the way to Obama's next big rally, continuing its chant.And when she closed her eyes and attempted to drown it out with music through her ipod, the whisper turned to a taunt

_I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't … It's just an excuse. If you loved him you would have said yes. You don't deserve him…_

And she argued back, as well as she could when the demon came from within.

She had said 'I can't,' not 'I won't'.

She had meant 'I can't, yet.'

I can't process this at the moment when everything else is so unsure.

I can't even get a job, let alone figure out how you and I work outside of College.

I can't take that many steps into adulthood just yet.

So she wrote to exercise her demons. There, in bold black ink on the back of a takeout napkin from some bad kung pao chicken she picked up in another soon-to-be-forgotten city.

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_I just thought you should know – _

_There is a difference between 'I can't' and 'I don't want to'._

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I can't now. There are things I need to do still, things I need to understand yet.

I can't now. I need to grow up and be ready for this.

I can't now, but I will soon. If you will still have me.

So she folded the napkin up until it was small enough to fit in her palm. And she held onto it until she reached the next town, repeating every mile of the way her new mantra of hope…

_–__ I can't give up yet._

Then she placed it in the envelope and smiled for the first time in days, unhindered by the taunting chant of her words from graduation.

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_I just thought you should know –_

_Charlie from the Hartford Courant did the tough soduku in three minutes this morning. Can you believe it?_

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_You know the saying 'you never really appreciate something until it's gone'? Modern air conditioning is a perfect example of that. Interstate buses in the heat of june? Not pleasant._

_You're a perfect example of that too, by the way._

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	3. Chapter 3: Damn Rockets

Hi all. Yes, it has been years. Literally. Very sorry about that. But colour me inspired. I don't think its fair to leave stories unfinished, so I'm going to be working on finishing what I have started. Hope you enjoy the chapter, if anyone is reading.

**I Just Thought You Should Know**

**Chapter 3: Those Damn Rockets**

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_Roy (he sits two rows in front of me) used to work at the Muncie Messenger. He remembers Doyle. Apparently, my sanity is now questionable because I voluntarily shared an apartment with him._

… _and he doesn't even know Paris_

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_I was wondering…_

_What are Finn and Colin doing?_

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It had started earlier in the week, when she had been drinking her morning coffee in the park across from her hotel. It was horrendous, really. The rooms were dark, dingy, and full of mysterious stains that she tried to avoid examining too closely. She imagined that her grandmother would have frozen in horror.

Regardless, she had escaped her small room early one morning before the events of the campaign trail started to sit peacefully on the park bench next to the playground. Sipping her coffee, her face shifted between laughter and sadness watching the children run through the playground, milling around the centre attraction. It was a huge construction, made of metal and consisting of several levels with ladders for kids to make their way to the top. In the shape of a rocket.

Her eyes couldn't help but fixate on it, watching children climb through it and make their way up to the cone. Their faces radiated with the happiness and naïve hope of youth.

Then the stupid roadside café had napkins with little rockets printed in the corner.

A clueless reporter asked Obama about the future of the space program.

And she spent a night watching the sci-fi channel.

It was curious that she would inflict this bizarre type of torture on herself.

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_I just thought you should know – _

_The crappy little TV in my motel room is stuck on the sci-fi channel. They are playing a twilight zone marathon. But all I can think of… all I can see is the rocket that sits on my desk in Stars Hollow._

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So, armed with a box of Kleenex and a carton of Chunky Monkey purchased from the 7/11 down the road, she sat and watched _True Love_ again. Because he was willing to wait years for her, and she was willing to put her life on hold for him.

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_There are one hundred and sixty-six tiles on the ceiling of my motel room. Two have strange stains that I've decided it is in my best interest not to think too hard about what caused them. _

_Or what caused us to selfdestruct so suddenly._

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_I__just thought you should know –_

_ I nearly rang you last night. Six times._


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